1000 Ships
by LaSemeuse
Summary: PC pulp. Beverly's moved on, JLP hasn't. Story now complete!
1. 1000 Ships One

Paramount owns everything. Resistance is futile. All opening lyrics from Indigo Girls album, All That We Let In – www.indigogirls.com  
  
This is pure escapist fun. The plot is obtusely predictable and the writing probably too hurried. This does nothing to move the genre. But everyone has to take the requisite stab at P/C angst, so here goes, eh? I can actually see parts of this fitting into a larger story someday, so don't be alarmed if you see an excerpt appear somewhere else.  
  
**************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
One  
  
"Ain't it funny how we lose one day, and a lifetime slips away. I'm looking back on us that way, something I never thought I'd say."  
  
**************  
  
"Well then. I guess this is goodbye." Jean Luc Picard's tone was almost brusque as he faced Beverly Crusher on the transporter platform. She stood primly, hands clasped at her waist, surrounded by all of her belongings.  
  
"Yes." Her response was terse, and her lips twitched upward.  
  
Behind Picard, a young ensign shifted nervously on her feet. The tension in the small room was palpable, almost tactile. She hoped the two officers would just get it over with. Clearly they were having a hard time with the entire event, but did she have to be stuck in the middle of it?  
  
Picard cleared his throat, but had nothing to add.  
  
"Well then." Crusher nodded to the young woman. "Engage."  
  
As she shimmered out of his existence, it appeared that Picard took a step forward, extending his arm. "Wait."  
  
But the ensign was quick on the mark. Beverly opened her mouth to respond, but was already engulfed in blue. Seconds later, she and everything around her had disappeared. Feeling the fool, Picard snapped his arm to his side. He turned and nodded crisply to the woman, then strode hastily from the transporter room.  
  
Ensign Kostyra rolled her eyes as he left. Who did these two ever think they were kidding?  
  
**************  
  
"You will not cry." Beverly Crusher reminded herself forcefully. "You are starting a new adventure. This is a step forward. You will not cry." She exhaled loudly and wiped the offending tears from her face. She looked around at her new home. It was beautiful, certainly. The Starfleet transport had dropped her off just moments ago. She'd quickly dismissed the cadet that had shuttled her out here. He'd been endearing enough, and full of questions. A young medical student, he'd volunteered for the menial job of ferrying her around with an eye to picking her 'legendary' brain. Her blow-off had clearly disappointed him. But she'd spent the afternoon on the verge of tears and was unsure how much longer she might be able to fight them off. She made a mental note to take the kid to lunch next week.  
  
She walked forward into the living room. Despite her mood, her breath was instantly taken away by the view. Unable to take time for a search, she'd simply given a list of desires to a property agent, and access to her credits. Lucky for her the woman had come through in a big way. She drew back the curtains further on the expansive bay window. The city of Seattle sparkled before her in the midday sun, framed by the rugged peaks of the Cascade Mountains. Ferry boats chugged across the glittering blue Sound, and off to her right stood the proud edifice of Mt. Ranier. She'd loved the Northwest of the North American continent ever since her first visit, and could not believe the luck she had to actually find such a beautiful spot when she'd relocated to Earth.  
  
A quick shuttle ride and an even shorter transport away from Starfleet Medical, Crusher was indeed happy with her new home. The climate reminded her of Caldos, and her ancestors' home in Scotland. Even more importantly, it would provide her an escape from the frustrating bureaucracy back at Starfleet. Her duty hours belonged to them – but her life and her weekends were her own. Well, they would be from now on. She had given almost everything to Starfleet, a life, a husband, and when she'd left the Enterprise she'd made a pledge to herself. No more – her family was now scattered. Riker and Troi on the Titan, Data gone, Wesley was God knows where. And Jean-Luc Picard. "To hell with Jean-Luc Picard."  
  
She plunked down into the large overstuffed sofa that faced the window. She looked around her new home. The entire scheme was local in flavor. Dark wood pillars contrasted neatly with the warm white walls, and native art had been placed tastefully throughout the room. Though not entirely of her own design, the décor was still soothing. Emotionally and physically exhausted, she pulled a throw down over her tense body and fell into a fitful sleep.  
  
**************  
  
Picard sat reclined in his office chair, hopelessly trying to read the weekly personnel report submitted by his new first officer. Complete, but certainly not anything comparable to the subtle humor Riker's reports had taken on through the years. And dry reading was simply not enough to keep him focused at the moment. His mind wandered. Wandered over Beverly's patrician features, flaming red hair, full hips, slender legs...... He shook himself mentally. He should be excited – a new ship, a new crew. The unknown surrounded him. But for the first time in his life, he found it completely disarming. He longed for the familiar. But there was literally no one onboard to speak to.  
  
Chastising himself as he did so, he leaned forward and opened a channel at his terminal, hailing Will Riker on the Titan. Moments later the computer blipped, and Riker's amiable face appeared on the screen.  
  
"Captain. What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?" Will was beaming, a grin splitting his face ear to ear. He had everything in the world to live for. His first commission, a new wife. The galaxy was his playground. Suddenly, Picard felt incredibly foolish, self-conscious. Still, he plastered on a smile.  
  
"Just calling to see how your ship is shaking down, Captain." Picard was incredibly unhappy at making small talk with Riker. He genuinely considered Will part of his family.  
  
Will knew that the call was more than casual. He'd served far too long with Picard to allow the older man to pretend he did not miss his crew. "It's just fine sir. But it's a little strange waking up somewhere other than the Enterprise."  
  
Picard chuckled. "Indeed. How's your crew?" Jean-Luc kicked himself again. Why could he not be forthright with this man? 'Because you can't admit the truth to yourself.'  
  
Riker saw a shadow pass over Picard's eyes, but pushed forward. "Just fine, Captain. As you know, Starfleet gave me wide latitude in selecting my senior staff. They're the best I could ask for."  
  
"As they should have, Will. You deserve to be serving with the best." Although the pretense was false, it still lifted Picard's spirits a bit to talk with Riker. Still, he could not help but feel sadness creeping in as he remembered his own first command on the Stargazer. Where had that young man gone? Where was his own spark? But before he'd even finished the question, he knew the answer. His spark had beamed off the ship not two hours ago. Disheartened, Picard chatted for a while longer with Riker before making an excuse and begging off.  
  
By the end of the conversation, Riker was certain of Picard's melancholy. The senior captain kept a convincing front, but it was no match for Will's intuition. He turned to Deanna, who had come into the cabin a few moments ago. "I'm worried about him."  
  
************** 


	2. 1000 Ships Two

**************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
Two  
  
"The devil I know is starting to look awfully kind. But the new road is an old friend."  
  
**************  
  
Before he'd even become aware of it, Picard's life had settled into droll a routine. The new crew had demanded much of his attention. They were all fine officers, but they were young and unaccustomed to working with him or each other. Picard had come to take for granted the way his crew had functioned for the past decade, anticipating each other's needs and filling the gaps. The new senior staff had grown closer over the past months, but there was a stiffness in the way they related to their Captain that Picard found frustrating. They were eager – he was cautious. They were quick, and he circumspect. They were young. And Picard was, well, he was no longer young.  
  
Though he had been mulling it over for some time, Jean-Luc Picard acknowledged to himself that he had made a decision. His time on the Enterprise was nearing an end. The Admiralty had been available to him for a while. Many back at Starfleet HQ had been encouraging him to advance, in their own tactful way. It was time to move on. He'd been offered an ambassadorship, but what really interested him was the Academy. He wondered if Jackie Brand would have him.  
  
In that moment the room around Picard seemed to brighten. Suddenly the projects and problems waiting for him on the ship seemed trivial, easily surmounted. He summoned up an image of the vineyard and smiled at the thought of returning. Tending the vines, working the land. His mind betrayed him then, and Beverly crept in. It was insidious the way she appeared to him – he would read something and want to share it with her. He would enjoy a particular book and want to discuss it with her. He would remember a moment and want to reminisce with her. His missing her had not abated, simply shifted to a dull emptiness. He knew he would be near her again if he moved back to Earth, and try as he might he could not suppress the small amount of hope and joy that filled him at the prospect.  
  
They had not spoken since her departure. In the end, the separation had been mutual – but Picard was beginning to wish he had been more persistent. Their last days together had been, on the surface, typical. But disappointment and tension had been a steady undercurrent. Ever since Picard's last encounter with Q, he and Beverly had been plagued by misunderstandings and miscues. His knowledge of the potential future between them had tainted his interactions with her. While he cherished the memory of their fleeting kiss in his ready room, she knew nothing of it. She had not felt what he had, not experienced the singular moment of bliss and peace the brief connection had engendered in him. All she knew was the story he told upon return, of their marriage and divorce. While he had tried to convince her that the timeline was not certain, it had only served to scare her further away from him. An invisible wall had shrouded her. When they met for breakfast, their conversations had been almost as always, but she was careful to steer him clear of any meaningful discussions, artfully leading him off course with leading questions and biting humor. Slowly she'd distanced herself from him, and each step backward had torn at his heart.  
  
Now he would be living and working virtually next door to her. It was the right move for him professionally and personally. He was ready to leave his transient life in space, to search for roots and permanence on Earth, return to his homeland. Perhaps this was his last chance to build that real family he had come to yearn for. Picard was a man of action, and a man used to getting what he set out for. But Beverly Crusher was a volatile element. Would he be able to convince her that he could make her happy?  
  
**************  
  
Picard's shuttle cruised into the main bay at Starfleet HQ in San Francisco. It had taken him longer than he'd hoped to make arrangements to leave the Enterprise and begin at the Academy, almost a year. The change in command on the Enterprise had been a joyous event – he'd been truly elated to hand her over to her new Captain, one William T. Riker. It had required a bit of cajoling on his part to secure the spot for his former first officer, but he had been quite emphatic in his request.  
  
The majority of the old crew had turned up for the ceremony, save Data and Doctor Crusher. She'd sent a vague message declining the invite. Uncharacteristically, Picard had pressed Deanna for details on Beverly, but she had little to offer. While she'd been in frequent touch with the Doctor, Beverly hadn't shared much beyond the ins and outs of her days with the Counselor. Troi insisted that Crusher seemed genuinely happy, and that had sated Picard a bit.  
  
Still, it was with a turbulent stomach he disembarked the craft. Now Admiral Picard, he smiled to himself as young cadets snapped to attention and offered to assist him with his luggage. He accepted stiffly and strode toward the exit. He would go immediately to the vineyard, where he would settle in for a week or so before officially beginning his tenure at the Academy.  
  
He made his way to the local transport station. Checking to ensure that all his possessions had survived the trip, he secured himself in the bustling shuttle and prepared for the short ride to LeBarre. As soon as he had settled in, he would contact Beverly.  
  
************** 


	3. 1000 Ships Three

**************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
Three  
  
"But now that I know it's just a fantasy, I feel a hard time coming around for me."  
  
***************  
  
A few days later, Jean-Luc's heart raced as he materialized at the private transport station in Seattle. He'd called Beverly immediately upon his arrival in France, and she'd agreed to meet him. Her reply had been truncated and cryptic, answering none of the slew of questions Picard had posed. He puzzled at the nature of the short message, but could hardly blame her. They had not spoken in more than a year. He hoped that years of deep friendship might help to bridge the gap the time apart had created.  
  
His stomach roiled as he made his way onto the city streets. He pulled out a small personal padd and studied the directions Beverly had provided. Apparently he was to go to the waterfront and take a ferry over to the peninsula where she lived. She'd meet him there, where they would walk to her house.  
  
He boarded the large boat and made his way to the upper deck. He strolled outside to the aft of the ship and watched the skyline as they departed. The afternoon was waning, and the sun glinted red off of the steel and glass buildings. The snow on the mountains was a soft pink, the sky a powdery blue. It reminded Picard of Beverly's eyes. His heart involuntarily skipped a beat.  
  
Lost in thought, he started as he realized the trip was over. He moved with the other passengers toward the front and off the boat. His head spun and he felt dizzy with anticipation as he walked down the plank. He stood in the waiting area and looked around for Beverly. As the crowd thinned, she appeared in front of him, on the other side of the room. His breath caught at the site of her. She was, of course, even more beautiful than he remembered. Her lustrous red hair had grown much longer, cascading down to the middle of her back. It had been lightening with age over the past years, and she'd begun to dye it. It was now almost the same deep mahogany it had been when she was just a cadet. Indeed, the effect made her appear years younger. She was truly radiant. Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she spotted him, and she held out her arms to him as they approached each other.  
  
It was all Picard could do to keep from crying out as they embraced. He held her for a few seconds, firmly, greedily. He pulled back as she tensed slightly. Her eyes were warm as she clasped his hands in hers and drew back to take him in. Her gaze raked up and down his trim form.  
  
"The Admiralty suits you, Jean-Luc." Her tone was open, but there was something in it Picard could not place. Almost something missing.  
  
He smiled nonetheless. It was sheer indulgence to see her again. "And Seattle suits you, Doctor."  
  
She laughed. The sound was musical. Picard watched her eyes, mouth, everything about her as she did so. All exquisite. Jean-Luc was horrified to find that the time he'd spent away from the fair Doctor had served only to intensify his feelings. He was a man deeply and sincerely in love. His stomach pitched and rolled. He realized that she had spoken and was waiting for him to respond.  
  
"I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm just realizing how long it's been since we've seen each other. I've missed you." The last he spoke in a voice thick with emotion. He realized he would not be able to hide his feelings for her indefinitely, if for any period of time at all.  
  
"I know what you mean, Jean-Luc. It's almost surreal to meet you here, like this." An awkward silence fell over them. "Well. Let's be going, shall we?" She took his arm and headed toward the exit. Picard felt as close as he ever had to giddy.  
  
They'd been walking for almost 5 minutes when they finally reached a small driveway leading off into the tall trees.  
  
"You live here?" Picard glanced incredulously down the wooded path.  
  
She laughed again. "A definite change for the Enterprise, I know. But I think you'll like it." She walked up the road and turned as Picard stood motionless. Again he was dumbfounded by how stunning she was in this setting. The trees, water, sky and mountains. It all seemed to blend with her in a way the austere environment on the ship had not. He was unable to believe it, but here she seemed to be even more herself. More entirely. His heart beat irregularly as he stood, jaw agape, staring at her.  
  
"Are you coming?" She gave him a puzzled glance.  
  
"Yes, yes." He shook his head and doubled his stride to catch up.  
  
**************  
  
Picard was not immune to the power of the sweeping vista off of Beverly's living room. He was drawn to it immediately.  
  
"It's stunning, isn't it?" Her voice lilted lyrically, as always with a touch of humor. He turned and took her in. And he had to agree. All he could muster was a nod.  
  
Sensing his unease, Beverly gushed to fill in the awkward stillness. He hated that their relationship had come down to uncomfortable silences, but he felt powerless to move his still tongue.  
  
"How was the boat ride?" She sat and motioned for him to join her on the sofa. He did so, unable to take his eyes off of hers.  
  
"It was splendid. I can see why you chose Seattle." He turned toward her and crossed his legs. "How have you been?"  
  
"Good. I'm good." Nodding her head, she paused, and he could tell she was not finished. "My life has slowed down. It's nice. I can think here. There's more than just space and Starfleet."  
  
"I suppose you've heard I'll be starting at the Academy next week." He watched her carefully for any reaction.  
  
She seemed genuinely pleased as she responded. "I know. I never thought I'd see the day when Jean-Luc Picard would voluntarily step off the bridge of the Enterprise. I thought they'd have to drag out you kicking and screaming." Her brow arched and her voice took on an unspecified intensity.  
  
But she gave him and impish grin and he returned a chastising look. Their old rapport surfaced momentarily. Then he responded in an introspective tone. "I have had cause to re-evaluate many aspects of my life recently, and I have found some of them wanting." His eyes glinted as he spoke and his voice was deep. As long as they had been separated, Beverly knew when Picard's words meant more than he articulated.  
  
"Is that why you've come today?" Her response held a challenge, and a touch of sorrow.  
  
"Beverly, I have come today because I have missed our friendship. I have missed you." His cards were on the table now, his heart laid bare before her.  
  
"Jean-Luc." She stood and walked toward the window. She stood silently for a moment. When she turned back, her eyes shone with tears.  
  
At that moment Picard knew it was too late. His heart plunged into his stomach and he felt sick. "Beverly?"  
  
She turned, faced him in profile. She was lovely. "We can't go back to the way we were."  
  
He felt relief as he shook his head. She'd misunderstood him. "That's not what I'm asking Beverly."  
  
"Jean-Luc, I know what you're asking." Her tone held a touch of impatience. She wiped gently at an errant tear. "We can't go back Jean-Luc." She abruptly walked out of the room, and down a dim hallway. Picard felt a bit uncertain but waited for her return. His thoughts were a mass of confusion.  
  
She emerged, no seemingly visible explanation for her departure. She sat directly opposite him on the sofa, hands in her lap. She carefully pulled the left one over the right. A plain gold band decorated her finger. "There's someone else."  
  
Picard stared at her in disbelief. He was numb with shock. He had never anticipated this possibility. He could not think, could not respond. Then, suddenly, he felt the mantle of control he had worn so long settle back over him. He remembered himself and smiled. "Congratulations, Beverly." He opened his arms to embrace her, and she leaned forward gratefully. They were both tense as they held each other.  
  
"Well. There are so many questions. The first being how you kept this little secret so well concealed?" He raised a jovial brow. His performance was masterful, and would continue to be. Neither she nor anyone else would know what the moment just past had cost him.  
  
She smiled demurely. "I've worked very hard to keep my personal life out of Starfleet. It's been difficult, but worth it." Her mouth twitched in a terse grin.  
  
"Married life seems to have done you well." He smiled warmly, but Beverly knew what she had done, what her admission had done to him. There was a dullness, a shallowness in his eyes, and a missing spark. They had danced around each other for so long. She could read him so well, like no one else. It was that intimacy that they could not reclaim while either of them was involved with someone else, and it was its absence that would doom their friendship. Both knew it in their hearts.  
  
Beverly was unsure how long they had been starring at each other in silence. Picard stood. "It's getting late." Beverly smiled. The sun had set, but twilight still lingered. It was a small lie to ease them both out of a difficult situation.  
  
"I hope someday we can have you over. I've already told Andrew so much about you. He's anxious to meet you." She delivered the invitation as softly as she could. It was only polite, but it still felt cruel.  
  
Andrew. Andrew. Picard didn't even know his last name. Beverly had not taken it, and he was dying of curiosity. But it was an odd question somehow, and God knew Picard did not want to bring it up. There was so much he wanted to know about this man, but he could little stand even the thought of his existence. He needed to get out of her house – their house – as quickly as he could.  
  
"Jean-Luc?" Beverly's eyes reflected her concern at his distraction. "Shall I walk you back to the dock?"  
  
He smiled again and shook his head. "No, no that's fine. It's a lovely night, and I remember the way." They stood facing each other for a moment, before he finally moved to embrace her. When he took her in his arms, he fought to remember each millisecond. To record the way her hair smelled, how her body felt against his, the softness of her skin. He drank it all in, knowing it would be all he had left to savor.  
  
She pulled back, and Picard was left feeling cold, inside and out. She walked him to the door, and he noticed how her slender fingers closed over the old-fashioned knob. He noticed the reach of her arm as she pulled the door open for him. He noticed the angles of her face, and her sapphire eyes. Each impression became etched indelibly in his mind.  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
Beverly shut the door and leaned her back up against it for support, tears running down her face.  
  
************** 


	4. 1000 Ships Four

**************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
Four  
  
"Your heart like a dam when it breaks."  
  
**************  
  
Picard sat in the Quarterdeck, a watering hole far from campus. He nursed his fifth whiskey, as always maintaining a respectable drunken haze. He had been teaching command classes at the Academy for a few months now, and was wildly popular as an instructor. In class he was jovial, dashing, and full of adventurous stories from his days on the Enterprise and Stargazer. Many of his peers in the Admiralty mistook his vigor for exuberance. Indeed, he seemed young again, a reprise of the Picard they had graduated with – hard working, hard drinking, and always with a beautiful young woman on his arm. Johnny Picard had returned. He was never late for class, and he was never a public spectacle. He stayed away from campus when he went out, and when he was seen on the grounds of the Academy he was as indomitable and respectable an Admiral as you could want. But from now on his down time was his own. He had sacrificed enough to the fleet.  
  
Picard recognized the self-destructive nature of his behavior, and he abhorred it. It was not a permanent solution, and he loathed it for the self-pitying folly it was. He would not indulge in it for much longer. Soon he would have to face his demons. But for the time it took the edge of his thoughts – Beverly in another man's arms, finding in him what she had not with Jean-Luc. Why could she not love him? Picard was not yet ready to face that reality.  
  
As he sat contemplating the dregs of amber liquid before him, a young woman approached his table. Pushing sixty, Picard was still an attractive man. His physique was toned, and as always he had an air of power about him. She sat down with her own glass of wine and another whiskey for him. He looked her over appraisingly. She clearly wasn't a cadet, and that made her a solid prospect. Picard was careful never to engage any students from the academy.  
  
She was good looking enough, brunette, warm brown eyes. She'd do. Picard never hooked up with redheads, and never a woman with blue eyes. But every other firm body in a skirt was – and had been – fair game.  
  
"You come here often?" Had Picard not been five drinks into the evening, he would have groaned. The company he kept had certainly deteriorated. As it was, he didn't care. He wasn't looking for conversation. He was looking for a distraction.  
  
"I do. Which is why I know you do not." Picard raised his glass in salute as he drained the remnants. The woman did not respond, only smiled. He was not sure she'd even understood his rejoinder.  
  
"What's your name?" He started the new whiskey, his eyes intense on hers.  
  
She looked sideways as she responded and smiled coyly. "Felicia."  
  
Picard winced and threw back the entire contents of his fresh glass. That had cut a little close to home. He was going to need reinforcements.  
  
"Well, Fel – young lady. What do you say we get out of here?" He cocked his head and gave her a charming wink.  
  
Felicia smiled. What an easy score. She was looking forward to telling this story to her friends. This guy looked like a good time. As they stood and walked out, she turned to him. "Hey, what's your name?"  
  
Picard laughed heartily. "It's not important."  
  
In the corner of the dingy bar, a shadowed figure watched closely as Picard and the young woman stumbled into the night. Some minutes later, she finished her own glass of wine and left.  
  
**************  
  
Beverly Crusher sighed as she finished reading the communiqué. Part of her resented being dragged into this, and part of her knew Marie would not have contacted her if she were not desperate. Apparently Picard's sister in law had been watching him on and off, alarmed by the fact that he had not been home to the vineyard but for a handful of nights in the past few months. Picard had gotten a small flat in San Francisco, not far from Starfleet. He was spending the majority of his time there, and Marie said that on the rare occasion he'd returned to the vineyard he had looked haggard, spent. He had been irritable, silent, and altogether unlike himself  
  
Crusher wondered briefly at how they had never run into each other on the Starfleet grounds. She suspected it was because Picard had not wanted to. She was humble enough now not to pretend she hadn't broken his heart when she'd remarried.  
  
She'd sent him a note after their last meeting, which had ended on such a strained note. He had not responded. Beverly had the feeling Picard was trying to erase her from his life. Marie's note had confirmed her suspicions. It was not just her he was attempting to purge, but ties to anything from his past.  
  
But it was not her problem. What was she to believe, that she had single- handedly driven him to drink? Her ego would not allow for that possibility. Whatever Jean-Luc's problems, they extended far beyond the implosion of their friendship. Perhaps the fact that he could not form lasting intimate attachments with anyone had something to do with it. Friendships yes – he had plenty of those that he truly cherished. But closely personal relationships – the ones that demanded he relinquish that last bit of control he cherished – those were beyond him. Knowing that, she had chosen to leave him. What she had with Andrew was common, but comfortable and secure. He loved her openly. True, Andy spent most of the month on assignment in another solar system. But it allowed them both to pursue their own lives. She was far too old to long for a star-crossed, wide-eyed love affair. She was content with what she had. Why couldn't Jean-Luc just take care of himself?  
  
She gazed out at the gunmetal sky. Dark clouds had gathered that afternoon, and occasionally squalls of rain would violently smatter the window. She simply stared for a few moments, then turned back to the computer. She clicked at it, and after a while a trim Frenchwoman's gently smiling face appeared before her.  
  
Beverly's eyes were flinty as she spoke. "I really don't know what you expect me to do, Marie."  
  
**************  
  
Once again Picard was entranced by a half-empty glass of whiskey. It had been a particularly hard week for him, and he had been constantly assailed with thoughts of Beverly - her voice, her skin, her touch, her laugh, her wit. It had all plagued him the past few days, try as he had to drink the memory away. He'd spent a few nights with Felicia before her droll lack of personality had driven him to distraction. They had parted unceremoniously the previous evening.  
  
He turned as a familiar voice over his shoulder broke his clouded reverie.  
  
"Mind some company, sailor?"  
  
************** 


	5. 1000 Ships Five

**************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
Five  
  
"And I don't know how you show such gentle disregard, for the ugly in me that I see, for so long I took so hard."  
  
**************  
  
It cut her to the quick to see his bleary expression when he looked up. She hadn't wanted to have anything to do with this, but Marie's gentle persistence and her genuine love for Picard had eventually won over her better instincts. Seeing the task that lay before her in this drunken, belligerent man, she regretted her decision. At the same time she knew he deserved better than the hell he was living.  
  
Clumsily he stood and bowed. "Doctor Crusher. Always time for you. Please, sit down." He gestured grandly to the seat opposite his. His eyes were dark and hard.  
  
"Thank you Jean-Luc." She divested herself of the lightweight pink sweater she'd been wearing and sat, her eyes intent on him.  
  
"Can I get you something to drink?" He did not wait for her response before waving to the bartender, who made his way over to the small, wobbly wooden table.  
  
Beverly looked over at Jean-Luc and back to the young man who stood waiting. "We'll have two very large glasses of water, please." She shot a reproachful glance back over at Picard.  
  
"I haven't seen you anywhere at Starfleet, Jean-Luc. Is this where you've been hiding?" Her eyes fired, daring him to answer her. Fighting with him wasn't going to be much of a challenge in his current state, but she wasn't about to let him off the hook.  
  
"Oh I keep busy, here and there, you know. I can imagine you haven't been around campus much either, what with your husband and research to keep you busy." For a moment Picard's eyes cleared, as did his diction. Perhaps there was more vigor in him than Crusher had anticipated. Now that they did not flirt, they had reverted to the thing they did next best – fight.  
  
Though she wanted to, she did not rise to his bait. Their parting had mostly been her doing – but she had plenty to feel angry about. This however, was not the time. Picard was in a tail-spin, and she would not sit by and watch this good man go to waste.  
  
"This isn't like you, Jean-Luc." She traced the rim of her glass with a slender finger as she regarded him.  
  
It was not, never had been, in Picard to play dumb. He only gazed back at her, his eyes unfocused. "Perhaps. But I took stock and found what had been like me wanting." He took another long drink. As he did his eyes openly followed a young woman across the far side of the bar.  
  
"So you chose to find a new life inside a bottle and a skirt?" Beverly threw it down. Her own eyes blazed as the color rose in Picard's face. She jumped involuntarily as the glass he was holding shattered. He did not need to speak – his response was clear.  
  
They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity before she stood. Their eye contact did not break as she slowly and calmly put her sweater back on. Each dared the other to look away, and neither would be the first to back down. He'd stood when she had, his bloody hand still clenched in a fist - but it was not at all threatening. Beverly could never feel threatened by Jean-Luc.  
  
She crossed her arms and regarded him skeptically before tapping her comm. badge. "Crusher to Starfleet Medical. Two to beam directly to my office."  
  
Reflexes slowed by the genuine alcohol and his rage, he had not seen her move coming. Even as he opened his mouth to object she shot out her hand and grabbed his arm. They both disappeared in a cloud of blue.  
  
**************  
  
As they winked into the office, she again bested him, quickly removing his own comm. badge before he could make any attempt at escape. "You're not going anywhere until we patch up that hand and load you up with a detox compound." Her tone was lofty, doctorly, and the decision not open for discussion. He eyed her warily. Why could she not leave him alone?  
  
She had turned her back to him and was sorting through a drawer for the right equipment.  
  
Finally recovered, Picard made a futile attempt to regain what was left of his dignity. "May I reminder you Doctor, that I am an Admiral. Our friendship has permitted me to allow you this much latitude – but my patience is wearing thin." He was indeed very angry with her. Could she not simply leave him to suffer in peace? It was bad enough having to deal with her absence, but her presence was far worse.  
  
"Just for that, Jean-Luc, I am going to give you the detox before I remove the glass." She stepped forward and injected a hypo at the base of his neck. His mind cleared momentarily, but not before she had stepped back. Her sudden proximity had startled him, and for a moment he was too caught up in it to remember his anger.  
  
As the haze of his drunk wore off, however, it all came rushing back. Without the numbing effect of the alcohol, his hand also began to throb. It was all a bit much, and far too embarrassing. Again able to think, he questioned Beverly as she assembled a tray to treat his injuries.  
  
"How did you know where to find me?" His tone was accusatory, and the air between them popped with tension and unease.  
  
"I have my sources." She was not about to tell him Marie had been spying on him – or worried about him. A man with Jean-Luc's ego could only take so much at one time. "Now sit down and be still." She spoke to him in the same tone she reserved for Wesley. She perched elegantly on her lab stool and he sat reluctantly on a nearby biobed. She took his hand gently and turned it palm up, moving a magnifying shield over it. She cradled in gently in her own hand, and Picard could not help but thrill at the touch. He had tried to substitute others, but there was none that matched hers.  
  
Still angry at each other, neither spoke as she worked. The pain was intense, and though he took pains to show no discomfort, he had begun to sweat.  
  
"Apologize and I'll increase the amount of local anesthetic." Her voice was even, and she did not look up from her work.  
  
His tone was terse and exasperated as he replied. He was hardly in the mood for games. "I'm sure I don't know what you expect me to apologize for, Doctor."  
  
"For trying to pull rank on me a minute ago." Still she did not look up at him. He winced as she removed a particularly deep-seated shard.  
  
"By all means, I apologize. Just give me the damn drugs." He pulled his hand back swiftly and she finally looked up, startled.  
  
Her eyes were steely and her jaw set. She spoke slowly and emphasized each word. "Apology accepted. Now put your hand back under the shield." She moved fluidly to take his wrist, but as she did so he resisted. They remained frozen for a moment, again challenging each other.  
  
He'd had enough. Picard fired the first shot this time, and the last. "I think I prefer to see someone else to finish the procedure." Beverly recoiled at this, and let his hand drop. Her own stayed frozen for a moment in midair before she slowly brought it back down and neatly replaced the instrument she'd been holding.  
  
For as long as she could remember Picard had always come to her for medical attention. He always loathed it, but he had always come to her. He hated doctors, but she knew that seeing her had taken some of the edge off it for him. She'd come to consider herself more than his CMO – she'd considered herself his personal physician. Foolish or not, she'd taken pride in that – Jean-Luc was hers, and every Doctor in the fleet knew it. Now he'd thrown that back in her face. Anything else she could overlook. But not this.  
  
"I see." She set her jaw more firmly and willed the tears beginning to form in her eyes to recede. She had hurt him, and he was now simply returning the favor. This is how it would be.  
  
No other words were exchanged between them as he grabbed his comm. off of the counter and stalked out of the office. Beverly sat motionless on her stool for almost 10 minutes before finally standing, gathering her things, and quietly walking out the door. The tears had spilled over her willpower, but inside she was calm. As much as it had hurt, she had gotten through to him. Though uneven, the score was settled. She knew the old Picard would return, and a small part of her was happy that she'd been able to reach him.  
  
************** 


	6. 1000 Ships Six

**************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
Six  
  
"There is fire, and there is lust. Some would trade it all for someone they could trust. There's a bag of silver, for a box of nails, it's so simple the betrayal."  
  
**************  
  
"You saw him again today, didn't you?" Andrew's question was not an accusation, but it held a touch of disappointment. She was often angered by her work in San Francisco, but she was only melancholy and introspective after she'd seen or talked to Picard.  
  
"Yes." She sat silently, regally, on the couch, legs and arms crossed. She held a chilled glass of white wine as she gazed out over the Sound.  
  
"And?" He wasn't jealous, just curious. He'd learned long ago the effect Picard had on Beverly, and had come to take it in stride. Andrew Stewart was younger than Crusher, but he was old enough not to let past loves hold sway over the present. Not that her feelings for the dashing Captain were a complete thing of the past – but she had married Andrew, not Picard, and he was secure in his position.  
  
"And nothing. We ran into each other in the commissary. These days we really have nothing to say to each other." She had not turned from the enormous bay window, and only continued her unblinking stare at the water and mountains.  
  
Andrew knew they'd had a blowout a few months previous. Beverly had returned that night with tears staining her cheeks. She'd walked silently into the living room and gazed out into the star-lit sky for an hour. Then she'd come to bed and had initiated an intensely amorous evening. Andrew had the strange but persistent feeling she had not really been with him in the most abandoned throes of her passion, but rather Picard. But he had not dwelled on it. Again, he was not a jealous man.  
  
Suddenly she spoke, startling him. "Andew, what are we doing?"  
  
"About what?" He gave her a puzzled look.  
  
She turned to him, her eyes deep blue. "Us. Where are we going?"  
  
"Beverly what are you talking about?" She could be so confusing.  
  
"I mean, what's the point? I go off and do my research, you go off and do yours. We meet up occasionally to have drinks and dinner. What kind of marriage is that? I love you, you love me, but is it enough?" Crusher had been growing increasingly frustrated at the predictable nature of her life. She'd come to Seattle, to Earth, to find stability. Well, she'd found it, and she wasn't happy.  
  
"Beverly, if you tell me what you want – "  
  
She cut him off, her voice rising in pitch. "That's just it. I don't know what I want. But I don't think this is it." She stood and began to pace. A thought was forming in her mind. "I'm going to ask to be transferred back onto a ship."  
  
Andew sat quietly and raked a hand through his thick brown hair. He loved Beverly, but during their years together he'd always had the feeling he had a tiger by the tail. There was a restlessness about her that was constantly simmering below the surface. To be honest, he was shocked, but not surprised at this new turn.  
  
She came to sit beside him and took his face in her hands. She studied his warm brown eyes and ran a palm over his rugged jaw line. Andy was handsome, young, and fiercely intelligent. But he was not an explorer. He was content in his lab. She was not. She needed to be challenged by the unexpected. If nothing else, it prevented her from dwelling on the shortcomings of her own life. She knew she was running away, knew that she was looking in space for what Picard had been looking for in a bottle. Neither held the answer, but it was the best she could do.  
  
"Beverly, I truly love you. You are an amazing woman." He pulled her forward and kissed her passionately. It was a comfort, and she would miss him. But something deep inside her compelled her forward – prevented her from staying in any one place for too long. She'd denied the call for the past year, but could not anymore.  
  
A few tears spilled down her cheeks, and they smiled awkwardly at each other.  
  
"It's him, isn't it?"  
  
She winced at the pain in his eyes as he spoke. She would not lie, she owed him more than that. "It's not just him. But I think that's a part of it."  
  
He exhaled loudly. "Damn I wish I could be angry." Now he stood and began to pace. "I wish I could, but I can't. I knew how you felt about him when we married. I thought it was just a ghost from your past that would disappear. But I was kidding myself, wasn't I?" He almost laughed as he spoke. What a fool he'd been.  
  
She stood and came over to him, taking his hands. "Andrew, I meant what I said when we married. I believed every word I spoke." She had wanted to believe them, anyway.  
  
"And now?" His eyes weren't warm anymore. He could blame himself for walking into this, but she was just as guilty.  
  
"Now all I know is that I have to move on. I'm sorry." More hot tears ran down her face. What a mess everything had become. She was severing ties with the last person she was close to. But the feeling of loneliness was an old comfort that settled quickly over her.  
  
He simply nodded. "This house is yours, Beverly. You love it. We tried to make it ours, and it didn't work. I'm happy for the time we had, and I love you. But I think we were both lying to ourselves a little bit." His countenance was grim and he did not meet her eyes. "I'll have my things gone by the time you ship out."  
  
He turned without another word and headed to the spare bedroom.  
  
Tears now flowing freely, Beverly grabbed a thick fisherman's sweater from the coat closet and flew out the door. She did not return until late in the evening. What a wreck she had made of her life.  
  
************** 


	7. 1000 Ships Seven

**************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
Seven  
  
"Hey Valentine I'm just a stumbling around. Who knew that Paris was such a lonely town? I'll meet you at the bridge where we wanted to kiss, or take the high road and be done with this."  
  
**************  
  
"Will, Deanna. It's so good to see you again." Beverly embraced them both fiercely. Troi was taken aback by the flood of desperate emotions emanating from her old friend.  
  
"Welcome aboard Doctor. I'd just been telling Deanna how things were too quiet around here. Then we got your call." Will winked at Beverly and she swatted at his midrift.  
  
Deanna elbowed him in the side and Will donned an expression of hurt surprise. "What?" The trio broke peels of laughter, and Riker nodded to the transporter ensign on duty as they strolled into the corridor of the Enterprise - home.  
  
Beverly almost cried in relief as they made their way to her cabin. It felt so good to be back with friends. Will was plying her with stories, while Deanna interjected an occasional correction. Captain Riker did have a propensity for exaggeration.  
  
They sat around for a while catching up. Troi sensed Beverly slowly easing into the situation, and certainly knew how much it meant to Crusher to be close to the Rikers again. It was difficult to feel the aura of displacement coming from the redheaded Doctor. She'd never found Beverly to be so at a loss.  
  
Will stood to announce his departure. "I've got to get back to the bridge." He clasped his hands in front of him and inclined his head toward Beverly. "We've got a staff meeting at 0800 tomorrow. I expect to see you there on time?" His voice held a mocking authority and his eyes glimmered.  
  
Beverly held up three fingers. "Scout's honor, Captain." Beverly had often arrived a minute or two late to morning meetings on the Enterprise. She was never disrespectful about it, and Picard had allowed her the small leeway. It was something of a running joke. Her mood soured as the once warm memory darkened. Her expression did not change, but Deanna looked at her intently. Crusher shrugged it off and feigned a yawn. Deanna took the hint and stood to join Riker.  
  
Before leaving the women shared another warm embrace. "It's so good to have you on board, Beverly."  
  
"Thank you Deanna. I feel right at home." Crusher plastered on another convincing smile. It wasn't a total lie – she was genuinely glad to be there. Her life had taken a three-year detour, and she felt like this might be a step back in the right direction.  
  
Will and Deanna filed out. As they entered the turbolift they met each other's eyes and exchanged a brief and silent conversation. As they glided toward the bridge, Will nodded. "I'm worried about her too."  
  
*************  
  
The year passed quietly for Crusher and Picard. Both spent it going through the motions. Beverly was still dissatisfied, and Picard still angry.  
  
Will and Deanna were at a loss. Both recognized the fundamental nature of their friends' unhappiness. Losing your life-long best friend tended to take the wind out of your sails. Losing them in this manner tended to make the problem even worse.  
  
When their third wedding anniversary rolled around, Riker and Troi announced that they would be holding a huge gala in celebration. The Enterprise was scheduled to be near Earth, and the party was to be at one of the largest Parisian hotels.  
  
Beverly eyed Deanna skeptically when the Betazoid told her of it, and Picard had groaned when Will had sent the communiqué. But eventually both agreed to attend.  
  
************** 


	8. 1000 Ships Eight

*************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
Eight  
  
"You can bury the past, but it's a mausoleum, with the ghost of a fist that won't let us be."  
  
**************  
  
Riker arrived that evening with Picard in tow. The affair was indeed grand, strictly white tie. Both Will and Jean-Luc were dashing in the old- fashioned suits, Picard having recently grown a trim goatee that added to the very dapper nature of the ensemble.  
  
Troi had personally seen to it that Beverly pull out all the stops for the occasion, supervising the selection of her dress, hair and makeup. The dark woman's tastes ran further toward the risqué than Crusher's, and the compromise between them had ended in a stunningly striking look for Crusher. Even Beverly had to admit she looked good.  
  
When the respective pairs arrived, the evening had already commenced and the dance floor was filling rapidly. Will parted with the Captain, intent on finding Beverly. He and Deanna had choreographed the entrance carefully, and Riker smiled in satisfaction as he led Crusher onto the dance floor. Deanna and Picard were already there.  
  
Careful to keep her back to Picard, Will led Crusher toward to his bride and the unwitting Admiral. Subtly, he bumped into Troi. "Deanna! Excuse me, Beverly." He leaned in and kissed her cheek before whisking his wife away.  
  
Beverly and Jean-Luc turned to each other. It was a dirty trick, and both Crusher and Picard were put off to find themselves in the other's arms. Both were too proud however, to simply march off and make a spectacle of it. They continued to dance, silently staring at each other. Both held resentment in their expressions and both prayed for the song to end quickly.  
  
Riker had already seen to that, however. He'd worked his charm on the band leader and gotten the guarantee that the bridge would be extended for several lengthy solos. He and Deanna waltzed by their recalcitrant victims occasionally, she shaking her head in the negative back to Will as they passed. For all their machinations, the mission was not going well. It was time for plan B.  
  
Ever the gentleman, Picard cleared his throat and broke the uneasy silence. "How's Andrew?" A gentleman yes, but a man nonetheless – and one in pain.  
  
Crusher 'accidentally' stepped on his foot before replying sharply. "Fine I'm sure." Her tone dripped disdain. "We've divorced."  
  
Picard's brow shot up and he opened his mouth to speak when a large man tapped him on the shoulder. Picard turned, glad to be rid of this burden. His opinion changed however, when he saw who he would be giving Beverly over to. Angry as he was, he did not wish this on her. One look back at the Doctor's horrified and pleading expression sealed the deal.  
  
The man was an ambassador from a strategic colony the Federation was courting for membership. He was the size of an overweight Klingon, with none of the muscle. He was pale and doughy, and looked to be quite inebriated. At least he smelled that way.  
  
Picard gave him a disarming smile. "I'm sorry sir, but we were just catching up. Perhaps another time."  
  
The man grunted in disapproval. "No. I want to dance. Now. It would be rude to refuse me, Admiral."  
  
Picard kept his smile and, using his most diplomatic tone, pressed on. "Please don't consider it a refusal sir, simply a request." He turned back to a now very pale Crusher, hoping to indicate an end to the conversation.  
  
The man laid a hand on Picard's shoulder and pulled him around to face him. Picard cast a disapproving look down at the beefy hand. Thirty years ago he would have already thrown a punch. But this was hardly the place or time.  
  
"Request denied. Step aside, *Admiral.*" The man leered at Beverly.  
  
Picard turned back to Crusher. Distressed as she was, he was not about to start a diplomatic incident. She'd have to get herself out of this one. "I'm sorry Doctor. It's been lovely. Perhaps another time."  
  
Beverly gave him a look that would have melted glass. "Yes another time. I'll be counting the minutes."  
  
Picard cast a glance backward as the large man engulfed Crusher's elegant frame. 'Good luck with that one, Doctor.' He made his way over to the bar, where he met up with Will Riker. The young Captain gave Picard a smile and a querulous glance. "What was that all about?"  
  
"It seems Doctor Crusher has had the unfortunate luck of attracting a most unwelcome suitor." Picard fought to keep the chuckle from his voice. The man's hands had a habit of roaming, and Beverly was squirming to avoid them. As amusing as it was to watch, on a deeper level it still offended Picard, and he struggled against a very basic instinct to tell the insensitive, unattractive man exactly where he could get off.  
  
Will took a drink and turned back to Picard. "Looks like she's about to make her move."  
  
They watched as Crusher feigned a pain in her leg. The man attempted to help her, but she waved him off, limping toward one of the balconies. Still oblivious, the drunken Ambassador took the opportunity to move his hand licentiously over Beverly's back as she stumbled forward. That was the wrong move.  
  
They were nearly to the balcony now, and out of eyesight of anyone who wasn't paying attention. Beverly pulled herself to full height. The show was about to begin. Mouth and brow moving animatedly, it was only a moment before she slapped the large man across the face.  
  
Will and Jean-Luc exchanged glasses before quickly finishing their drinks and rushing across the room. Pushing through agitated couples on the dance floor, Picard arrived first, just as the burly man raised a menacing hand toward Crusher, who seemed unaffected by the threat.  
  
Jean-Luc caught the offending arm in mid-air. His tone was low, menacing, and all business. "That would not be a good idea, Ambassador." Picard had not wanted to start an incident – but he had no qualms about finishing one.  
  
Will arrived on the scene and stood tall behind his former Captain. Neither was near the size of the Ambassador, but all the same he and Picard presented an intimidating picture. Will piped up, his voice flippant. "Any trouble here, Admiral?"  
  
"I think not, Captain. The Ambassador here was just on his way home." As he spoke his eyes never left the big man's. Picard still held his arm in an iron grip.  
  
The man knew when he was beaten, and reluctantly lowered his arm, which Picard released. The now humbled Ambassador slunk out through a far door, not looking back.  
  
"All's well that ends well, I suppose." Riker beamed at his two hapless friends. "I wonder where Deanna's gotten off to. If you'll excuse me." He nodded to each and hastily departed, a grin splitting his features from ear to ear.  
  
Beverly and Jean-Luc gazed at each other for a moment before descending into a fit of laughter. "Are you quite all right, Doctor?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine." She splayed a delicate hand across her chest as her laughter became fits of giggles.  
  
"I assume the injury was just for show – or can I get you a chair?" Picard moved to rest a hand on her upper arm, offering any needed support. His eyes were merry, but they both froze as his hand touched her skin, a charge moving through them simultaneously. Their eyes met, and the air crackled between them.  
  
Both recognized that for just a moment they had recaptured what they thought had been so irrevocably lost.  
  
Picard was the first to break what had become an intense silence. "It's a lovely evening, Doctor. Would you join me for a stroll?" He looked out onto the balcony and the warm spring evening.  
  
Crusher followed his gaze. It was a beautiful night, one that almost begged you to wander through a lush garden or beside a lazy river. She nodded her assent. "Yes, that would be nice." It was all she said, but her eyes indicated there was much more behind it.  
  
Again from across the room, they were unaware of Riker and Troi's intense surveillance. This time when Deanna met Will's eyes, there was a glimmer of hope.  
  
**************  
  
They walked in silence for a while. The hotel abutted the Seine, and they strolled quietly, entranced by the lights reflecting off the river. They moved in unison, but carefully avoiding the other. Neither was sure they were ready to let go of the anger they held, but both knew that if it were going to ever happen, this was the right moment. The pressure of that knowledge kept either from speaking.  
  
When they did, it was all at once, each speaking over the other.  
  
"Jean-Luc – "  
  
"Beverly – "  
  
"Please, go ahead – "  
  
"I'm sorry – "  
  
Jean-Luc stopped and faced the Doctor. They both laughed nervously. Beverly smiled ruefully.  
  
"Perhaps we should draw straws." His eyes sparkled with humor. He knew he had been so angry with this woman. But in the glow of the half-full moon and the subtle illumination of streetlight playing off the river, gently lighting her delicate features, he could not for the life of him remember why.  
  
He gazed at her for a moment, appreciating the ivory of her skin, framed by a flame of red; the spark of her deep blue eyes as they twinkled in the moonlight. They were so full of life, humor, and depth. They were so full of her – and of her knowledge of him. There was no one in the galaxy that understood him as well as she.  
  
He began again to speak. "I'm truly to sorry to hear about Andrew." It was not a total fabrication. He knew that it must have been painful for her, and that troubled him.  
  
Beverly tilted her head as she regarded him. It was a bit of a surprise to find that she did not even need to speak with him to feel content. Being in his presence added to all her senses, added to her experience of life. What had gone wrong? Why could they not just get it together? First Jack, then the guilt over his death. Then duty, then, what? Her fear? A small grin pulled the corner of her mouth as she laughed at her own foolishness.  
  
He smiled back, curious. He had attempted to distract himself for years – with his ship, with other women, for the love of God even with alcohol. He knew then that she could reject him for time immortal and he would never fall out of love with her. If it were to be his burden, he would carry it to the grave. But just now, as he looked into her eyes, he thought perhaps he may not have to.  
  
************** 


	9. 1000 Ships Nine

**************  
  
1000 Ships  
  
Nine  
  
"I saw you, and I knew chances just don't come 'round again, not like this."  
  
**************  
  
A warm breeze flitted past, lifting Beverly's hair and dancing it across her face. She raised a hand to push it back, and Picard lifted his own, tucking a strand behind her ear. As he did their fingers met, and again a powerful current moved between them.  
  
"Beverly, I have been miserable without you." His eyes were lit with passion and sorrow. He would not give her an excuse to turn him down again. He set his open heart at her feet. It was already shattered beyond repair – there was little more she could do to hurt him now. But she was also the only one who could make it take flight again. Picard was an explorer and had made a life of venturing into the unknown. He took a deep breath in as he embarked on this next adventure.  
  
"Jean-Luc." Her eyes searched his, and found everything she could have hoped for. Oddly, she had no urge to cry. She smiled widely. "Jean-Luc." She reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand. "I am so sorry." She had caused him so much suffering.  
  
He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, brushing her knuckles with a kiss. Both shuddered at the gentle contact. "There is no need to apologize Beverly. All I ask is that we may simply move on from here, with open hearts."  
  
There was no way of knowing what had done her in – the warm spring evening, his deep hazel eyes, or her own fragile resolve. She cried out softly as she leaned toward him, resting her head on his shoulder. His almost knees buckled as she did so. It was not so much a gesture of passion as of trust and absolution, an acknowledgment and resolution. There was no mistaking the passion in her touch, however, when she reached up with her mouth and captured his. There was no way to describe how he felt, the culmination of twenty some years of unrequited desire.  
  
Their kiss deepened, and Picard felt himself losing control. His stomach jumped and his pulse raced. He could not help but utter a soft moan. This only compounded her passion, and she slipped her hands into his jacket, roughly running her them across his chest. He pulled her tighter into his embrace and dropped his hands to her waist.  
  
For Picard time froze. He became unaware of his surroundings, and focused exclusively on the feel of her body against his, the touch of her lips on his. The way she smelled, the way her chest heaved against his. He brought his hands up to her neck and enmeshed his fingers in her silken hair.  
  
Beverly was swept up in her own desire. She felt at his shirt and began unbuttoning the front, desperate to feel his skin. She succeeded momentarily, and thrilled as she ran her fingers over his chest and stomach, both hard but not unyielding. Still their kiss deepened more.  
  
Her fingers against his skin brought Picard back to the present, and Crusher whimpered as he broke their embrace. He almost lost himself completely when he saw the look of unbridled lust in her eyes.  
  
"Jean-Luc please." Her hands continued to roam over his body and he nearly cried out again.  
  
"Beverly." His voice was thick and muffled with passion. He reached into his pocket and fumbled around until he finally grasped his comm.  
  
"Admiral Picard to transport center 23. Two to beam directly to my home coordinates in LeBarre, France." The center took a moment to locate his records, and he and Beverly were already back in each other's arms by the time they felt the familiar blue tingle sweep over them.  
  
When they rematerialized, they were a minute's walk away from his estate, on a moonlit path surrounded by grape vines. He took her hand and began to pull her toward the house. She stopped abruptly and pulled him back to her, devouring his mouth again. She pressed up against him and sighed, which elicited another groan from him. Slowly she began backing them into the vineyard.  
  
"I'm not going to make it back to the house, Jean-Luc." She stepped back and turned, holding his hand and she moved among the thickening vines. They did not provide much cover, but in the soft moonlight they would do. She was a woman of passion, and now that the objective was clear, she would not wait another second.  
  
"Beverly." Picard's tone was one of amazement. He had often dreamed about what it would be like to be with her, but never in his wildest imaginings did he envisage this explosive scenario. It excited him to the core.  
  
Safely shrouded in the lush foliage, Beverly pulled him to the ground. Briefly, he appreciated all that was before him in this moment – the woman of his eternal dreams, his land, his life. Then he was transported to another world, one that consisted of Beverly Crusher, and where he was incapable of any coherent thought.  
  
He remained that way until a beam of morning sun pierced through the rustling leaves and settled on his face. Holding her tightly to him, he looked over as the sun caressed her ivory skin and lit her hair on fire. He closed his eyes once more and laid back as a hint of a breeze flitted over him. He had done more than his share of traveling through time, but for the very first time, Jean-Luc Picard knew that he had found his own eternity. 


End file.
